


see you in the mirror

by eleanna99



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drama, Gen, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-26 18:47:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2662553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eleanna99/pseuds/eleanna99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is 2nd May 2001 and the cemetery is filled with white roses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	see you in the mirror

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own anything in the Harry Potter universe, I just have a thing for making myself sad with stories like this.

“So let us all celebrate on this day of grand victory and mourn on this day of great loss with a white rose for everyone who should be here but isn’t,” McGonagall’s speech ended and was greeted by silence, since no one was in the mood to applaud. The woman herself seemed weaker than usual, her age for once showing through the cracks of bravery. For those who knew her, it didn’t matter. They would always see the woman who was a loving mother for every student and the worst fear of anyone who tried to harm them.

People walked around the cemetery with bouquets of white flowers in their hands, some saving them for their lost loved ones while others placed one on every grave. No one deserved to live more than the others.

Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley walked with their fingers intertwined, as the girl was left with only one rose in her hand. He didn’t dare to ask who she was saving it for and he only realized it when he saw the name on the headstone.

Lavender Brown. Two dates with a hyphen short like the eighteen years it represented. A picture of the blonde smiling widely in front of Honeydukes. That was all that was left of the girl.

Hermione’s hands were shaking as she placed the rose next to the dozens of others. She wished she could remember Lavender laughing. But she couldn’t. All she could think about when it came to her was her pale face, drained of blood and her eyes empty, which is what she looked like when Hermione’s spell pushed Greyback off of her. If only she had gotten there a minute earlier…

Ron said nothing and just held her hand tighter as if he could listen to her thoughts. Thankfully, she didn’t have the time to go over her actions of three years ago once more, as two familiar figures arrived. Padma could barely hold Parvati who was breaking down for yet another year in front of her best friend’s grave, but she managed to nod to the couple. They both smiled sympathetically and moved on, letting the girl grieve.

Ginny had left Harry’s side and was talking quietly with Dean and Seamus, but the boy barely noticed since he was busy trying to calm his godson, who was tossing and turning unstoppably in his arms. The three-year-old seemed more restless than ever, as if he understood the sorrow of the day and reacted as a toddler was expected. His hair had been a dull grey-brown color all day and his eyes were a really sweet brown, but looked red and swollen from all the crying.

Andromeda offered to help once again, but Harry refused. The woman was old and tired, especially on that day. Besides, they were almost there.

The headstone was larger than the others, providing space for two names and birthdays. No one would notice the age difference as all they would pay attention to would be the radiating love in the picture below. It was Christmas and the couple was slow dancing in front of the Christmas tree in Grimmauld Place’s living room, the movement caught for eternity in the magic photograph.

Harry let Teddy on his feet and after being pulled away from his godfather’s leg twice, carefully but curiously approached the grave. He pulled the picture into his small hands and it was true magic, the way his eyes lit up green like his father’s and his hair burst bubblegum pink like his mother’s.

“Mama!” he said gleefully, his laugh the only happy sound that had been heard in the cemetery in ages. Harry smiled but it quickly faded away as he heard the sob that had escaped Andromeda’s lips. He gently placed an arm around her shoulders as she cried and wiped her eyes in a tissue for the hundredth time that day and then cried again.

“She was so young… they loved each other so much…” she muttered in his shirt and he didn’t reply. He would lie if he said that he didn’t miss Tonks’s pink hair and curses every time she tripped on something in the hallway or Lupin’s stories about his parents and the calmness in his face ever since he admitted he was in love with Dora. They shouldn’t have died. They should be there to dance in front of the tree after every Christmas dinner. Teddy should have grown to learn how amazing his parents are. But he couldn’t say that to Andromeda, because she already knew.

Even though she was too young to realize, Victoire Weasley, who turned one on that day, was the only thing that helped a number of people keep it together on that day. She was just sitting in her father’s arms, playing with his fang earring in her delicate fingers, but her blonde hair, blue eyes and cute baby smile were enough to mesmerize everyone. Molly had actually managed to smile at the sight of her first grandchild extending her arms towards her, but Bill didn’t hand her the baby because he knew how fragile his mother was. He had Arthur on her one side, the man saying less than ever, and Charlie on the other, who only came home from Romania on that particular day every year, just to hold his mom’s hand.

But no one seemed to be able to help George. The boy had his legs crossed on the ground and the wind messed with his ginger hair and his hands were dirty from the soil and every now and then people talked to him but he never replied. The only people he had reacted to since he had claimed that spot in front of the grave, surrounded by too many white roses, were Lee Jordan who had come back for the first time after he moved to Australia a few months after the battle and Angelina who was a sobbing mess and he couldn’t help but hug.

But he didn’t speak to either of them. He hugged them and patted their backs, but he saved his voice for when the sun set and the last people were finally heading home and Bill had said something about Vic’s birthday cake in the fridge before apparating with his daughter and wife.

The picture was one of the few of Fred alone. He was in his dress robes, the night of the Yule Ball and what hurt the most was that his laugh came from some joke George, who was behind the camera, had made on his nervousness. Pain swelling up inside him, be threw the frame on the ground, upside down, the sound of the breaking glass the only sound in the cemetery.

George tried to convince himself to stand up and leave, but he couldn’t. So he stayed there for minutes, for hours. He was alone in a graveyard of grey tombstones and the sky was painted orange like his hair and the grass was green and covered in white roses and yet all he could see was his brother’s brown eyes losing their light right in front of him, three years ago on that day.

So he moved to plan B. Maybe if he talked some weight would be lifted of his chest and it would be easier to stand up and move and walk and breathe. It was worth a shot.

“A couple of years ago,” he started and his voice was hoarse, “I wanted to talk to someone about… this. You. Dying. The problem was that the only person I would ever want to talk about something that serious with was also you. I couldn’t go to mom because she would break down, or anyone else in our family because I knew they would treat me like a ticking bomb and try really hard to find the right thing to say when all I wanted was someone to _talk_.” It was true. For months after the battle, the few times he would leave his room and go down to the living room every discussion would stop and everyone would stare at him, waiting for him to cry or scream or explode or something like that.

“I thought of Hermione, because you know, that girl has a solution for everything and I think she would be honest with me, but I don’t know if she would truly understand,” he said, pulling at the grass without thinking, “she hasn’t lost anyone that close to her.”

“Then there was Harry,” he continued. “But the guy had just defeated the Dark Lord. And he was seventeen. He deserved a break. Everyone owed him a break. Lee moved to Australia and didn’t come back for years and strangely enough, I found myself going to a person that had never crossed my mind before.”

He picked up the picture again before continuing, already feeling bad about breaking it. She fixed it and put it back in place, hoping that it would feel more like he was talking to him. “Andromeda Tonks. Let me tell you something, that woman is strong. And she understood. She lost Sirius and her husband and Tonks and Lupin and even that terrible sister of hers and it was the first time I felt that the advice was coming from someone who had been through the same thing as me.”

He didn’t feel any better, but he couldn’t stop. Even if everything sucked just as bad afterwards, he had nothing to lose.

“She told me the worst day was one morning that she woke up and she didn’t remember her husband’s laugh. She told me she went crazy because for a long while, when her family had disowned her because she fell in love and everything seemed to get worse, all that kept her going was his laugh, the only thing that made her believe that maybe there is hope,” he said and his voice broke at the last word and he brought his dirty hand to his face to realize he was crying. He put his fingers back into the grass and continued.

“She had promised herself that she would never forget him, or any of the people she has lost and yet every morning she wakes up and realizes something else is missing and even though she has come to terms with the fact that it’s inevitable and one day the memory of their presence will be something hard to remember, she keeps pictures of them all around the house.”

His breathing was getting faster and unsteady and more tears were streaming down his face, yet he hadn’t moved an inch, his fingers gripping right on the grass as if it was the only thing keeping him on the ground.

“Do you know why I’m telling you all this?” he asked and there was no one around to answer, especially not Fred. “Because I catch myself wishing I was in her place. Wishing that every morning another part of you would be gone because that would mean that maybe one day I would forget the pain too,” he sobbed and wiped his tears on his sleeves as more took their place.

“But I will never be able to do that. Because I look in the mirror and you are right there staring back at me and every time I speak it’s like hearing you and some days I am really tempted to dye my hair blond or blue or green to stop looking like you and only eat ice for a week to screw up my voice and make it stop sounding like yours,” he yelled and he knew he was sounding at a piece of rock among more pieces of rock that would never be able to truly represent and fill the void of the names carved on them, but the weight was slightly lifted.

“But I still wouldn’t forget you because our eyes would still be the same. Sometimes I’m just so jealous of Teddy who can change everything on him and be someone entirely different. Although I’m sure once he grows up and learns to control it, he will choose to look like the perfect combination of Tonks and Remus.”

It was getting harder to shout, his throat sore after all the yelling, so he inevitably got quieter. The absence of volume in his voice reflected on him as well, as he suddenly felt much more tired and heavy.

“And he will have every right to, because his parents were great and should be remembered. And you should be remembered too and no matter how much I shout at your grave, it is going to happen. Because that’s what people do, Freddie. We lose someone and whatever part of the universe was filled with them is suddenly filled with pain, so we cling onto that pain because the alternative would be to let that part of the universe fade and no one can ever do that. I’m not even making sense right now,” he said and in one quick movement he was one his feet and stepping backwards, his eyes fixed on his brother’s picture.

His clothes were slightly green from the grass and his hands were full of dirt and his face was stained with tears and a part of him wanted to run and never come back, but how could he? Instead he gave one last look to the place he sat and with five last words he apparated right into his room in the Burrow.

“See you in the mirror.”


End file.
